Screaming words into the crowd
like the floating secrets,
half burnt
and trickling down the river.
Such a small force laden with such great weight across it's shoulders.
We huddle around, a shivering mass,
Divided between the crisp air and the unwavering sob.

Before now I was never quite sure,
you said you felt
infinite,
but all of our voices amount to a
whimper.
A whimper drowned out by the words screamed into the crowd,
by another lost stare,
watching the little black and white speckles
float down the surface of the water.
You can't help but quiver,
and as I watch your fragile frame tremble I can't help but feel helpless.

If you leave
and walk through that great golden door,
take my sweater.
It looks awfully cold out there.